


Morning Routine

by alchemisty



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, a little out of character (imo), stupid lesbeans doing stupid lesbean things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemisty/pseuds/alchemisty
Summary: Cordelia wants out of bed, Misty doesn't; neither of them wants to sleep.





	Morning Routine

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to share a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ before this fandom more or less dies out for another year or so. I’m actually working on something, let’s say… meatier [read: multi-chaptered piece that keeps me awake at night], but it’s a slow progress. In the meantime, here is my very first completed attempt not only at Foxxay, nor at fluff or smut, but at writing fiction altogether. It’s not much but I hope this short bit of messy morning recreation is passable enough and that it can make you smile if only a little. 
> 
> And if it doesn’t, here’s some piece of information that shan’t ever fail to do so: Misty Day is canonically alive and reunited with Cordelia Goode. 
> 
> Okay, now read away.

As usual, Cordelia’s eyes open minutes before her alarm clock sets off. Fumbling in the lingering darkness of early morning, one arm slips from under the covers and into the chilly air of the bedroom to reach for the device with the intention of switching it off before it has a chance to stir the curly mess of a woman beside her out of what seemed to be a peaceful slumber.

Just as she replaces the item on her nightstand and braces herself to face the loss of much delightful warmth, a muffled groan is immediately followed by a firm and tugging grip around her middle.

– Misty…

No answer, but the grasp doesn’t relent.

– Misty, let go, I have to get up. You can sleep a while longer if you want.

Indistinct mumbles come from underneath the covers and a thick mop of blonde knots. Still no actual Misty in sight.

– Can’t hear you, sleepyhead.

As Misty’s free hand pushes the obstructive tangles of fabric and hair aside at last, her face emerges lazily, eyes still closed and voice drowsy.

– I said: stay here.

The words do not come as a plea but as a definite order, Cordelia figures as she feels the girl forcing her to roll over until she’s almost lying on top of her girlfriend — her very stubborn girlfriend. She aims to speak again but is cut short when Misty wastes not another second to connect their lips in a rapidly engaging kiss. The hand that was at Cordelia’s waist slides down to squeeze a firm cheek in a nearly obscene fashion. Very stubborn, Cordelia notes, and apparently very horny as well.

Between a gasp and a low moan, Cordelia still makes a fruitless attempt to dodge her lover’s assaults, trying her best to ignore the growing heat declaring in the familiar recesses of her all too responsive body.

– Misty, honey, the girls are going to be up soon, if some of them aren’t already.

She barely gets the end of her sentence out as Misty’s mouth latches deliciously around the tenderest part of her neck. It only stops for a moment when Misty speaks up.

– The girls can take care of themselves. I know I can’t.

As though Cordelia hadn’t already grasped the heavy innuendo, Misty cocks her head back to meet the Supreme’s eyes, a feigned look of despair in her own as she utters in a coy murmur.

– Will you help me, Delia?

With a roll of her eyes, Cordelia sighs audibly, half pretending Misty hadn’t won her over the moment she had laid hands on her. And so she essentially melts into the embrace; her front sinks warm and frank into Misty’s as one of her legs slides between the other’s thighs to press against her core through the light cotton of her nightgown, gently at first, then with an eagerness matching that of their kissing. Unsurprisingly, the younger woman is quick to retaliate, hips bucking roughly into the touch. Misty is already panting when she breaks away.

– Shit, Delia… I think I might need those lips and tongue down there.

Grinding her hips harsher still into Misty’s, Cordelia practically growls at the words. Though she intends to oblige zealously, she also plans on enjoying every bit of her journey southward — and surely Misty would do so just as much, she’d make certain of it. Before she can think it through any further, animalistic instincts take over her cunning logics, hands and mouth working their way up and down Misty’s body, whose wanton undulations operate in sheer harmony.

Not an inch of Misty’s jaw, neck, what can be reached of her torso is spared. Dipping into the low cut of the garment, Cordelia’s hands grasp and knead merciless at her breasts, eliciting pitiful whimpers from the other’s mouth. Freeing the white mushy flesh as best as she can from the fabric, her fingers are quickly replaced by her lips, then her tongue, and — _oh!_ — her teeth. The way Misty throws her head back into the pillow as a soundless moan escapes her throat has Cordelia smile deviously through her ministrations. “Beaten at your own game”, she thinks while travelling over to the other breast to grant similar treatment.

Misty can’t quite tell if it’s her own intrinsic impatience or the fact that she’s already lurching over a dangerous edge that brings her hands to push down on Cordelia’s shoulders, urging her lower and lower still. Feeling gracious, Cordelia yields, tracing a line of chaste kisses down Misty’s clothed stomach, before her head disappears under the thick quilt. Still lying flat on her back, Misty tilts her chin down to marvel through hooded lids at the hidden spectacle taking place down her writhing body. The bulge of Cordelia’s head and upper back moves all the way down between Misty’s bent knees, where one light peck is left after the other. Temptingly running her fingertips up and down Misty’s outer thighs after having bundled the rim of the gown up to her hips, the stifled voice, thick as honey, reaches the girl’s ears beyond the covers and through her lust-induced daze.

– Spread your legs a little wider for me, baby.

Misty obeys all too readily and the last thing she manages to see is the duveted bump launching forward as Cordelia, quite literally, gets down to work. A long, slow flat-tongued lick up Misty’s labia serves as a warm greeting, before fingertips part her folds and — _ah!_ — Cordelia lets out a cool, languid blow of air to the sensitive flesh she’s met with.

– Sweet Jesus, Delia, stop teasing…

Luckily enough for Misty, at this point Cordelia herself is too eager to savour the familiar yet somehow always new taste of her girlfriend to restrain from plunging mouth first into her. Misty cries out, a not so discreet thing, relieved and anxious all at once, letting her hands grasp at anything they fall upon — the opposite pillow, her own breast. The telltale nagging of an orgasm builds up rapidly in the pit of her stomach and she just about hopes she doesn’t hurt Cordelia when her thighs cramp violently around the other’s head as she comes undone. But Cordelia’s satisfied hums and groans indicate no sign of pain as she laps a few more times, her own saliva mingling with the ever so wondrous combination of sweet and sour.

Eventually climbing back up to lie beside Misty, Cordelia notes with a softening gaze how her own heaving chest seems to mimic the other woman’s. Slowly landing back down on Earth, Misty turns to lie on her side, nuzzling idly against Cordelia’s neck. Her voice, when it comes out in a breathy husk, tickles the skin below.

– That was even better than in my dream.  
– So this is what it was all about?

Cordelia’s throaty laugh is suppressed when Misty shifts to plant an open-mouthed kiss on her own parted lips, expecting all too fervently to return the favour. Which one of them gasps with surprise in the other’s mouth isn’t clear as a soft knock on the door precedes Zoe’s hushed yet distinct tone.

– Cordelia, are you awake? I don’t mean to bother but the new girl, Sarah, managed to burn herself while cooking breakfast and it looks pretty bad.

Their sighs — concerned for one, frustrated for the other — come in perfect unison, Cordelia sitting up in the bed almost right away.

– Dear God… I’ll be right there, Zoe. In the meantime, make sure she has cold water running continuously on the wound.

Waiting for the sound of retreating footsteps to die off, she turns around to look down at a pouting Misty. She swears she could see the very traits of the child Misty must’ve been for a moment, the thought warming her heart more than her tone.

– Now is the moment you tell me you still have some of that magic mud of yours down in the greenhouse.

But Misty — sleepy, stubborn, horny Misty — isn’t about to act like much of a loyal, cooperative trooper this morning. At least not for a couple more hours, is the message she sends out clear as day as she grunts loudly and pulls the covers over her head once again, leaving Cordelia to decipher her grumpy mumbling.

– You said I could sleep some more!

**Author's Note:**

> (I don't care much for the whole who's top, who's bottom debate. What I do fervently stand by, though, is the undeniable fact that Misty Day does not wear underwear to bed — granting she wears anything at all.)


End file.
